


Nothing to see

by TheIceQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Caretaker Dean Winchester, Caretaking, Confusion, Delirium, Drugs, Embarrassed Sam Winchester, Embarrassment, Fever, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sam Winchester, Injury, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Medical, Medicine, Needles, Pain, Sick Sam Winchester, Stitches, Unconsciousness, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Sam is sleeping in. That's weird enough, but when he hides symptoms as Dean discoverers his fever, Dean knows that something is up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
Whumptober 2019 #altno.11 – Infection

“Hey, Mr. Rise and Shine! Get up!”

Dean slammed the door open to the motel room. He’d just thrown the last of their stuff in the car.

Sam pressed his face into the pillow with a deep hum and turned it away from the light. Dean never got up first, but Sam had looked more than regular tired the day before and Dean thought it would be best to let his brother sleep longer if he was coming down with something.

“Sam! We need to go.” He walked to the bed and pulled the cover of Sam.

Sam shivered for a brief moment and then pulled his arms close and his hands under his chest. Dean paused for a second taking in the sight of his fully clothed brother, drenched in sweat.

The firm hand Dean put on Sam’s shoulder made him recoil with a shaky gasp. Dean’s stomach churned as he wondered how long he had before he needed to drag Sam to the bathroom and shower him in cold water. It couldn’t be long.

“Sam.” Dean pulled his far shoulder up slowly. “C’mon, look at me.”

Holding in a deep breath, Sam followed Dean’s move and turned to his back. Pain was smeared across his face and as he relaxed back down he let the air out with a pitched sigh.

“Dammit, Sam.” Dean hastily brushed away the wet hair from his brothers face ignoring his flinch as he touched his forehead.

“I’m fine, Dean.” Sam barely had his eyes open as he looked up at his brother standing over him. “I just need to sleep it off.”

“No. I think we’re passed that.”

Without waiting for Sam to answer, Dean ran to the car and got their duffel bags inside again. He dropped the one with the medical kit in it next to Sam’s feet and al but tore it open. Briefly he noticed his hands shaking as he looked through their sparse selection of help, but he made a decision not to think about his own shaking. Sam’s was bad enough, and Sam’s wasn’t from adrenaline.

“Here.” Dean slowed down two inches from Sam’s face, not to attack him with the thermometer as he placed it in Sam’s mouth.

Sam began to say something, but it didn’t take much strength to hold his jaw tight. “Not now. I need to figure out what is happening and you don’t get a say against it.”

Sam sighed and settled for looking at the ceiling while blinking slow enough that it pulled Dean’s air from his lungs every time. How the hell did it get that bad overnight? Sam was tired for sure and thinking back he didn’t really eat that much, but this was happening way to fast.

The thermometer showed 104. High, but Sam had had worse and been more alert than now.

“Sam?” Dean took his chin and turned his head towards him, and after a second Sam’s eyes followed. “What’s going on? You’re in pain?”

Sam pulled his chin slowly from Dean’s hold and locked his jaw, not hiding his pained look, as tried to turn away, but Dean held him down with a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t! You’re running quite the fever, but that can’t have you hurting all over, not like that. You are going to tell me what is wrong before you burn up.”

It took forever for Sam to find Dean’s eyes again and then give up the silent fight. He shook his head slower than Dean had seen before and when he breathed in deep to talk Dean loosened the grip on his shoulders a bit.

“I’m just tired… and have a headache.”

They had spent too many years cooped up together in shitty rooms like this, as kids and adults, for Dean not to see that Sam was keeping something from him. He pulled over a chair and sat down with his arms folded.

“I’ll sit here till you spill or till you need an ice-bath, which we don’t have by the way.”

Sam tilted his head to the side and looked at Dean as he sighed deeply. “My leg.”

Dean sat up straight. There’s only one thing that could start with a leg and make a fever like that.

“Where?” He asked under his breath.

Sam bit his lip and started to turn away. This time Dean helped him. When he was steady on his side, Dean looked down his pantleg. There was nothing to see, but that doesn’t mean that there wasn’t anything hiding under the fabric. He quickly reached to the duffel and grabbed a pair of scissors. There was nothing on Sam’s lover leg, even though the skin seemed warmer than it should be, even with Sam’s fever.

He cut to the middle of Sam’s thigh before he found the edge of a bandage. Careful enough that he could hear Sam’s fast breathing he cut the back of Sam’s pants all the way to the edge of his boxers. The bandage was thick but still Dean could see the orange fluid making its way through. It would surely have soaked Sam’s pants in under half an hour.

“Sam?” Dean took Sam’s elbow, making sure he didn’t roll back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s kinda…” Sam breathed in heavy and slow, for once. “It’s a bit too high.”

The bandage was touching up against Sam’s underwear but it wasn’t like it was his ass. Dean would have made a lot of jokes and would have hated to patch that up, but it was better than this.

“You should have asked me to help.”

Sam didn’t answer, and Dean might have imagined the small nod he saw.

If Sam’s fever had been lower he’d most likely shouted and sworn at Dean. If it had been higher he probably wouldn’t have cared about the sounds he made. Listening to Sam trying to suppress the whines and cries as Dean removed the bandage was more revolting than the sight under it.

It wasn’t deep and Dean could understand why Sam had decided against stitches, but yellowish fluid was running from it and the skin around was angry red and swollen.

“Sammy…”

“I know.” Sam rolled slowly to his front and hid his face against an arm as he held on to the pillow with both hands.

When Dean had picked the half empty whiskey bottle from the other duffel bag he paused. If Sam had just come to him right after clearing that vampire nest instead of waiting five days, he could have avoided a lot of pain. And saved Dean from having to hurt him like this.

“Ready?”

Dean put a hand on the back of Sam’s knee, pressing it into the bed. Sam tightened his hands on the pillow and Dean poured half the alcohol over the open wound.

The scream filling the room, was raw and angry and quickly muffled by the pillow Sam bit into. Dean let his leg be, and held Sam’s back steady as he gagged and couched until the air flowed unobstructed through his throat.

“Sorry, man.” Dean’s heart clenched as he hurt how sad his own voice sounded, and steadied his breath before speaking again. “You, with me?”

Winded, Sam nodded into the pillow and lifted his hand a little to signal that he was still there. Dean sighed relieved and let go of Sam. He looked at the wound. Not clean at all but, at least almost all of the vile looking bacteria was gone. He found a clean bandage and had already anticipated the recoil Sam made when he loosely placed it over the wound.

“It’s alright, Sammy. No more right now.”

Sam slowly turned his head towards Dean and Dean quickly brushed the sticky hair from his eyes.

“Dean…?” Through the fatigue, he sounded equally confused and scared.

Dean sat down and leaned in a bit so Sam could see him. “I can’t close it like this. We need real antiseptics and you need antibiotics…” He placed his hand heavily on Sam’s shoulder and leaned in with a smile. “and preferably painkillers.”

Relaxing a bit more, Sam smiled and nodded as he closed his eyes. Dean got up and grabbed the car-keys. “I’ll get two more nights in this suite too. Don’t die when I’m out.”

“Sure.” Sam sounded already half asleep.

Dean locked the door after him and sprinted to the car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes back after the supply-run and find that Sam need everything he'd brought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was a short one-shot for whumptober, but a few readers told me here and on Tumblr that they would like to read a second chapter. One of those people is going through some rough times right now, so while I took a break from a few other stories, I decided to go back to this old one and give her a second chapter.   
-Hopefully it will give you a small break from the real world.-

When Dean had texted Sam and told him that he needed to drive to a pharmacy further away, the only answer he’d gotten was an “OK”. An hour later Dean sent a text that he was on his way back and was somehow relieved that he didn’t get an answer at all. Sam needed rest, and him sleeping for the next half hour was the best that could happen.

Dean opened the door quietly, hoping to see Sam still fast asleep but he wasn’t in the bed. He wasn’t in the room. Dean turned on the light and dropped the bag on the only table in the room. More upset that Sam wasn’t sleeping than that he wasn’t in sight Dean called out for him. There was no answer and instantly he walked to the door to the bathroom. It was the only place Sam could be if he hadn’t left the motel room, and no matter how delirious he was from fever, he wouldn’t be that stupid.

“Sam?” Dean tried calmly. “You in there?”

He got only silence as an answer. He at least expected to hear the shower turned on. The only reason Sam would have gotten out of bed was to cool down. If he’d just gone to the bathroom he would have answered and made sure Dean knew he was good and that he should stay out.

“Sam. I’m coming in.” Dean prayed that Sam would be dressed. He really didn’t want to pick his half naked little brother from the floor if he’d dropped from the toilet. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Sam wasn’t on the toilet. Or the floor.

“Sam?” Dean looked at the shower curtain drawn shut. Why the hell wasn’t the shower turned on? “You better be dressed,” he said under his breath and pulled the curtain.

Sam was half sitting, half lying, against the corner. Fully dressed and wet only from the sweat he was drenched in. Dean hunched down and grabbed his shoulders firmly. “Hey! You awake?”

Sam’s head lulled back against the wall as Dean tried to shake some life into him. The heat from Sam’s skin burned through his shirt and into Dean’s hands. “Shit, you’re burning up.” Dean threw a towel in the sink and turned on the cold faucet. As the water soaked the white fabric, Dean padded Sam’s cheeks roughly. Sam didn’t make a sound as Dean let his head go against the tiles, hoping the corner of the shower would hold it from dropping to the side too far. Hastily, Dean wrung the towel loosely, Sam was soaked in sweat anyway, and placed it firmly on his forehead. It seemed as if Sam took a deeper breath.

“There you go. C’mon man.” Dean held Sam’s head steady with one hand and with the other he slowly moved the towel down to the side of his neck.

Sam hummed deep and almost inaudible. Dean’s lungs filled with air fast and he almost lost balance on his bent legs. “Hey? You back?”

Sam’s eyes wasn’t half open when he hummed again, and Dean still supported all the weight of his head. Dean moved the towel to the other side of Sam’s neck and then to his forehead again. “Sammy. Why are you sitting here?”

Sam’s eyes fluttered open and even though he seemed bothered by the bright lights in the small room, he focused somewhat on Dean. “I… I needed to cool down.”

“Well no shit. But didn’t you forget something?” Dean looked at the handle for the shower. It seemed within reach if Sam had sat up more.

“My clothes were wet anyway,” Sam said with a heaviness to his words, that prompted Dean to shake him again to make sure he wasn’t blacking out again.

“Sam. I meant the water or did you think the cold tiles were enough?” Dean tried to make it sound like he was joking, but he was already wondering how he would get Sam back to the bed or if he had to bring blankets and pillows out there. There wasn’t that much room to work with.

“I missed it. My hand missed,” Sam’s head dropped forward and Dean pushed him back up with the now lukewarm towel. “I fell.”

“Right.” Dean wondered how long Sam had been sitting there. From the texts it could be everything between half an hour to an hour and a half. For a second he considered turning on the shower and cooling Sam down himself but it would only prolong his state. He needed to get that cut fixed, not to speak about the antibiotics lying on the small dinner table, in the other room.

“Alright. You can’t sit here till you fry your brain.” He dropped the towel and grabbed Sam’s one arm firmly, making Sam’s head drop to his chest with a low growl. “C’mon big guy.” He hauled Sam up and held all of his weight while Sam got his feet placed correctly on the floor.

“Can you walk?” Dean knew that he couldn’t. If it was the fever or that Sam had been on the hard tiles, not moving for who knew how long, Dean wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t moving. “C’mon work with me here.”

Sam’s arm tightened a little around Dean’s neck, not enough to hold himself up, but enough that Dean could move one arm to around Sam’s waist. Dean had hauled Sam from danger before and been okay, but Sam wasn’t helping at all and getting through the door proved to be a bigger problem than anticipated. The walk through the room was slow and as soon as the closest bed was within reach he dropped Sam on it, just far enough in that he wouldn’t roll off. Sam heaved in air and covered his face with an arm before letting it out in a loud growl.

When Dean was sure Sam wouldn’t move he went to get the bag from the table and a bucket of cold water and towels from the bathroom.

The bandage from earlier hadn’t been fastened and Dean noticed it on the floor as he ran up to the bed again. He took a firm hold on Sam’s shoulder, causing Sam to hum annoyed. He sounded confused to Dean, and Dean’s stomach tightened. Maybe he should have cooled him and treated him in the bathroom anyway.

“You have to roll to your front, remember?” Dean pulled Sam’s arm and slowly Sam followed. With pained whines and a lot of breaks whenever Sam seemed to almost pass out, they got him turned.

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean said as he laid eyes on red lines drawn by blood down the back of Sam’s leg. The wound itself was more inflamed than before Dean had left, maybe even than before Dean had washed it out with the whiskey. He must have been on that floor for closer to an hour and a half.

With no hesitation Dean unpacked everything he’d picked up from three pharmacies, not too seem too suspicious, and unwrapped the IV needle as the first. He hunched down in front of Sam’s face and took his hand. What the cold alcohol swab touched the back of Sam’s hand, he slowly opened his eyes and seemed to see the needle as the first thing when Dean picked it up. He pulled his hand a little, but Dean held it tight.

“Hey, Sammy. Lie still. You need this.” Dean tried to look Sam in the eyes, but his gaze was wavering and he closed his eyes before Dean could connect. Sam nodded silently and relaxed his hand. Dean sighed and continued to get the needle in. Sam didn’t move. He’d never had a problem with needles, so the small hum he responded with had Dean believe that he’d already forgotten what was happening. Hastily he fastened the cannula with tape and connected the first syringe to the port. He pressed the antibiotics into Sam’s veins and proceeded to do the same with the painkillers, he hoped would take some of the fever too. If not he would had to give him a fever reducer soon as well, but he would like to limit the amount of drugs as much as possible as long as they were outside the bunkers infirmary, or a hospital.

With the state the wound on the back of Sam’s thigh was in, Dean was grateful for the antiseptic he’d gotten but it was still going to hurt as much as the whiskey, most likely it would hurt more since it would work right.

“Sam. You with me?” Dean didn’t expect an answer and when he didn’t get one he was equally glad that Sam was this out of it and angry that he had to surprise him with this. There was no reaction when Dean held tight on the back of Sam’s knee and pressed his leg firmly into the mattress. With no pause to second guess what he was doing he poured a great amount of the clear fluid over the open wound. Sam’s back arched before he screamed. His leg tensed so Dean had to drop the bottle and hold with two hands to keep Sam on the bed. Gasping and gagging, Sam sluggishly fought to get away from the pain high on his leg.

“I know, I know,” Dean tried to comfort him while speaking loud enough to get through to Sam. “Breathe. It’s done.” Dean looked at the wound. It was clean enough that the water he needed to clean out the alcohol would make it ready to close.

Slowly, Sam’s body gave in to the weariness and he sunk heavily into the mattress. “Sammy?” Dean wanted an answer before he let go. Not that he thought Sam would move anymore, but there was no way he was turning away from hm even for a second before he knew that Sam was sure that he was still there. Sam hummed in a high-pitched tone. It seemed as if the fever had pulled Sam’s last trace of ego from him. Not that he ever had much, but he _was_ tough and only ever complained with swears when he was hurt.

Dean let go slowly and took a second to wring a towel from the bucket. “Here.” He waited for Sam to open his eyes, even if it was only a sliver and he really didn’t look at anything. “This is cold.” Dean placed the towel on the back if Sam’s neck and watched him tremble and gasp, but he quickly relaxed again and seemed to actually look at Dean. Not quite in his eyes, but definitely at his face. “Hi. Sorry about that, but you _did_ do this to yourself.”

Sam tightened his jaw and nodded as he closed his eyes again. Dean didn’t want to place blame right now, but it felt good to have a positive reaction to a test that Sam remembered what was happening. Dean moved the towel a bit down Sam’s back and placed another over his shoulders and neck. Sam only hummed, more content than before, and Dean smiled as he padded his cheek and stood up. “Okay. I’ll clean with water and then close it. Nothing like that again.”

Sam pulled his hand with the IV over his head and covered his face with his arm and Dean took it as a sign that he was getting a bit more aware of the situation he was in and what Dean was saying.

As Dean cleaned the wound with water he still held Sam’s leg to the mattress, but Sam was only slightly shaking. The whines and small cries tore into to Dean though and he almost wished that he would scream again. He hadn’t been able to get hold of needles for the syringes to local anesthetics, if he had Sam would have neither whined or screamed. They needed to always have that in their med-kit. Why hadn’t they ever gotten that fixed. It wasn’t like this was the first time, one of them was out of it while having to get patched up.

“Dean,” Sam said with a shaky breath.

Dean instinctively held on tighter to Sam’s leg. “Almost done.” He put the saline down and reached for Sam’s arm with his free hand. “Only five or six stitches.”

“What…?” Sam lifted his head and pulled his arm from Dean. “Wait… Dean?”

Dean let go of Sam’s leg completely and sat right in front of him, quickly grabbing his hand. Sam’s eyes were focusing on Dean, but he looked beyond exhausted and, confirming Dean’s suspicion, he was both confused and scared.

“Sam. You got hurt, remember?”

Sam shook his head lightly and drew in a deep breath as he tried to push himself up. Dean didn’t have time to stop him from lifting his upper body before he dropped flat on the mattress again.

“Hey, lie still, okay?” Dean held a firm hand on top of the towel on the broad part of his back. Sam was ration heat through it. “I need to patch you up and you need rest.”

Sam frowned and shook his head again. “What? I don’t…” he said, seemingly even more confused. He hissed loudly as he moved his leg and his eyes widened. “My leg! It’s… is it?” He retaliated Dean’s strong grip on his hand and pulled their connection closer to his chin. “I lost it!”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “No Sammy. It’s just a cut.” There was no way of arguing with a fever that high. He let go of Sam who was now passed confusion and went right in to panicking, but was too riddled with fever to move. Dean did bring a thermometer from their med-kit but he hadn’t needed it as long as Sam was somewhat lucid. They only used it to check for real danger, but that had to wait till after the fever reducer was in his system. It wasn’t hard to get hold of Sam’s hand, since he practically pulled Dean onto the bed as soon as he got close. It was however not easy to get him still enough to connect the syringe to the IV-port.

“Dean. No, it’s not, please, I can’t… with one leg,” Sam pressed the words out through heaves of air and now running tears.

Dean took his chin firmly and got close enough that his eyes was the only thing Sam could see clearly. “It’s only a cut. It’s just the fever messing you up.” Dean squeezed Sam’s hand harder. “Let me help! Okay?!”

Sam froze and even though he looked like he understood what Dean was saying, he clearly didn’t believe a word of it. Dean took the moment to connect the syringe and push the drug in. Sam followed every move closely and didn’t move when Dean also pushed in a second dose of the antibiotics. He wound definitely have reacted if he knew that it was over half an hour too soon after the earlier dose, but Dean was quite sure that Sam didn’t even remember the needle going in his hand. He reached back and grabbed the electric thermometer and with no time for Sam to react he pressed it in his ear. Sam growled and pulled his head back, but Dean followed his movement.

“I get it, I know. Just a second.”

Sam didn’t loosen his neck before the device beeped and Dean took it away. 107.6. Dean swore to himself and dropped the thermometer. He was running out of time faster than he’d thought. Sam’s breathing was still too fast for Dean to feel alright with walking out of his line of sight, so he took the towels of Sam’s back and neck and wrung them in the still cold water. Sam shook with cold when Dean placed them back and looked even more confused and scared. Dean took his hand again and took a firm hold on his chin too, making Sam look at him. “Are you with me?”

Sam nodded slowly, but his breathing wasn’t changing for the better. “Sam. Listen. Everything is fine. But I need to close the cut now, before it gets infected again.”

“Cut?” Sam said quietly and hesitant.

“Yeah, tough guy. It’s only a cut. Six stitches and then you can sleep through this fever.”

Sam’s hand loosened in Dean’s and he took a deeper breath. Dean moved a few inches back, unconsciously checking Sam’s reaction. Sam let go of Dean’s hand and buried his face in the pillow. Nodding to himself Dean stood up and placed a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Alright, Sammy. Let get this done.”

He pulled a chair over and sat down next to Sam’s thighs. The wound _was_ too high for either of them to be comfortable with Dean patching it up, but since Sam was half unconscious, comfort wasn’t really the first priority. The first time he pushed the needle through the skin, Sam whimpered with that high tone that Dean hated with a passion by now. The second time it was closer to a sob. Dean hated that even more; none of them wanted to be comforted, maybe Sam would be a little better from it right now, but if he remembered it after, it would make the next days weird and awkward to get through, especially since Sam would have to avoid sitting for days on top of it all. The sobs became louder with the third stitch and didn’t stop right after.

“Sam. You know you’re alright, right?” Dean was doubting how much was pain and how much was fear.

“Dean?” Sam said with a gasp into the pillow.

“Yeah.” Dean made a pause after tightening the thread. “It’s me. You’re fine. Two more stitches.”

It took a little too ling for Dean’s comfort for Sam to answer, but he was breathing just a little calmer so he waited.

“Okay,” Sam whispered.

Dean breathed relieved. “So you believe me? You know you’re safe?”

Sam nodded and seemed to swallow a sob. “I know.”

“Alright,” Dean said more to himself than to Sam. “Two more.”

The fourth stitch was done with only a hiss from Sam and the last was done with him only tensing his back and knee. He didn’t react to Dean placing the bandage and taping it on tight and Dean noticed his breathing slowing down and even out.

Breathing easier himself, Dean cleaned away the empty vials and the suture kit. He didn’t want to wake up Sam and he was rather confident that his fever had broken, but he needed to be sure. Sam was headed towards brain damage if he got hotter or had it for too long. He leaned over Sam and as he held his head still with a light hand in his hair, he noticed that he was beginning to shake. Dean pushed the thermometer in and felt Sam fight to move away but his little brother didn’t make a sound. “Alright, alright, just a second,” Dean sad so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

The thermometer showed 105,9. Still way to high but better and Dean took a second to stand up straight and look at Sam sleeping. He didn’t look relaxed or comfortable, or even like he was getting that much rest, but he _was_ sleeping, which would at least get his mind a break. Dean saw a shiver spread like a wave through Sam’s body and hear his breath shake as a result. Quickly, he took away the towels and decided that it would be easier on both him and Sam if he just cut the back of his shirt off. When the whet fabric was gone he proceeded to cut the bloodied and wet part off the already cut pantleg. He grabbed the cover from the other bed and made sure every bare inch of Sam’s body was covered before he sat himself down on the other bed.

Even from eight feet away, Dean could see that Sam stopped shaking. He was still shifting and clearly beginning to dream. Dean figured that as long that he wasn’t freaking out he would just let him be and check his temperature. He sat an alarm for half an hour and wondered if he would any sleep before that.

* * *

Dean was sleeping deep when the alarm went off. He listened for Sam before he decided to open his eyes and heard only a heavy and slow breathing. It could mean anything except panic. He got standing quick, but as soon as he saw Sam lying still, sleeping clearly more at ease than earlier, Dean slowed his pace in crossing the room.

“Sam?” He hunched down in front of Sam’s face with the thermometer already turned on. “Sam, wake up.”

Sam hummed annoyed and deep. Dean relaxed his shoulders just from hearing the change in his brother’s tone. He shook Sam’s shoulder. “Hey. I need to check your temperature.”

Sam’s eyes opened and he found Dean’s face faster than all day. “What?”

“I see you’re better but I need to make sure you’re fever is still dropping. You should probably get another dose of antibiotics too.”

Sam looked confused for only a second but then nodded with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Dean put the thermometer in his ear and Sam looked like he fought himself not to pull away.

“What is it?” Sam said with a whisper as soon as the beep sounded.

“99.3.” Dean said relieved. “Looks like you’re officially out of the woods.”

Sam frowned. “How high…?” He moved a little and flinched, letting out a small gasp.

“Too high.” Dean found the antibiotics and drew it into a syringe. “How about you get some more morphine after this?”

Sam moved a little, maybe testing out what he could or to get more comfortable. He grinded his teeth and nodded at Dean with a locked jaw. Dean gave him both drugs and watched him slip into unconsciousness again.

Dean was sure Sam would hate every second of recovering from this. If Dean had to have patched that cut up when it was fresh, he would have been on Sam’s case for days for making him touch him that high on his thigh. Now he would be on Sam’s case for weeks, possibly months, for letting himself get that sick just because he was embarrassed.


End file.
